Just like holding a calligraphy brush.
He closed his eyes.
The Sword Spirit Root within him operated as usual, the aether of a third-tier knight surging through his meridians. But this time, Su Li did not release it directly. At his dantian, he forcefully pinned down that immense power.
Then, he separated out only the tiniest, tiniest fraction.
How tiny?
Roughly the amount he had when he first started smithing. Back then, the total aether in his body amounted to no more than a bowl of water. What he needed to do now was scoop just one bowl of water from an entire lake.
Lock down all the rest.
The aether traveled down the meridians in his arm. Su Li could feel that power stirring at his wrist, itching to spread outward.
Gritting his teeth, he forced it back down.
No. Just this tiny bit. Not a thread more.
The needle tip touched the surface of the refined steel plate.
Su Li moved his wrist with extreme slowness, and the aether he had been desperately holding back flowed out through the needle tip.
There were no sparks.
The aether silently seeped into the surface of the refined steel plate, leaving behind a faint mark.
Su Li's hand was shaking—not from nerves, but exhaustion. Controlling such a tiny amount took ten times more effort than simply unleashing it in a flood. It was like making a weightlifting champion thread a needle—the difficulty was completely reversed.
He finished drawing one inch.
Lifting his hand from the refined steel plate, Su Li let out a long breath of stale air. The clothes on his back were soaked through.
Talia had already risen from her chair.
She bent down, bringing the tip of her nose within a fist's distance of the refined steel plate,